


Discovery

by quetzalzotz



Category: The Man in the High Castle (TV)
Genre: Antisemitism, Boot stepping, Crotch Stepping, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Desperation, Desperation Play, Forced Wetting, I took some dialogue from the show, M/M, Masturbation, Nazis, Other, Pee, Piss, Watersports, Wetting, just a bit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-26
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-07-17 20:46:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16103498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quetzalzotz/pseuds/quetzalzotz
Summary: Captain Connolly kept his cover intact, but at a cost he hadn't expected. The fact he actually enjoyed pissing himself in front of his CO.TW FOR NAZIS. No kidding, its Man in the High Castle. Just be warned going into it.





	1. The Initial Discovery

**Author's Note:**

> No one asked for this, until I delivered. I don't even like Connolly that much. The opening dialogue is pretty much verbatim from the show. 
> 
> There's already a second chapter in the works....

“As you can see, Mr. Meyer has recovered from his hallucinations. He’s just told me something very interesting.”

Connolly was familiar with that tone. That deadly calm voice Obergruppenführer Smith used when he was fuming. Panic ran through his head; how much did Smith know? Did he really know anything?

“What did he tell you?”

“He’s named you as a conspirator.”

Panic flooded Connolly and he hoped his facial expression conveyed outrage and confusion. “That-That’s ridiculous! It’s obviously a lie!”

“Why would he name you?” Smith feigned innocence, with his eyes wide, acting as though he doesn’t know the answer already.

“I don’t know. I’ve never met this man!”

“An informant doesn’t have to meet his co-conspirators.” Smith gestured to a chair. “Sit down.”

Connolly slid into the chair uneasily, heart pounding in his chest. He could swear Smith could hear it. “No, he just has to pass on the information,” Smith mused.

“What information?”

“The route of my car, Captain.”

“I’ve only been loyal, Obergruppenführer. Whatever he said, he’s lying.” Connolly spat. He was starting to feel actual rage.

“I don’t think so, Captain. Mr. Meyer has given me a very detailed account of how you passed on the information.” He stepped closer, glowering. “Explain yourself.”

“Obergruppenführer, it’s not true! There’s no proof! Just the word of this Semite!”

“Tell me Captain.”

“I have nothing to confess.”

“Tell me. Now.”

“It’s a lie!”

“Are you saying I’m a fool?” Smith cocked his head. “I’ve allowed myself to be deceived?”

“No, of course not.”

“So he’s telling he truth.”

“He’s not!” Connolly felt the gun against the back of his head. “Please tell him you’re lying!” Panic was truly flooding his system and he was shaking out of fear. This was how he died, shot in the head. Fuck, he was terrified, chanting no over and over.

He heard the click of the gun, but no bullet. It hadn’t been loaded. But Connolly’s body hadn’t caught up with that. As relief flooded his system, piss flooded his uniform. If either men had heard, they said nothing as he flew off the chair, beating the prisoner.

“Why did you let it go that far?” Connolly asked as the men walked back, his pants cooling uncomfortably and the scent of piss in the air.

“We had to test it. I’m sorry it went like that,” Smith was softer now, the same kind of tone he reserved for his family. “Take the rest of the afternoon off. Go home, get changed. Rest.”

Connolly opted to walk home, briskly leaving the building through a side entrance to avoid as many people as possible. He was grateful for his long, leather coat.

He pissed himself. In front of his commanding officer. In front of a prisoner. How could he show his face in the SS Headquarters again? Smith had promised discretion but rumors had a way of getting around, and this wold certainly be a juicy one.

He cringed at the word “juicy” as he peeled off his underwear, clingy and see-through. He threw them in the trash instead of trying to salvage them. He’d always remember the shame of it.

He allowed himself to indulge in a bath, to relax. The water was hot, almost to the point of scalding, as if he would burn the piss off him. He scrubbed his body raw with the harsh soap he kept, and when he felt raw, he leaned back and took a deep breath. He’d say here until the water was like ice, probably.

He couldn’t stop the moment from replaying in his head. Gun. Head. Click. Piss. Repeat. The shame kept coursing through his body and his heart pounded the same way it did when the gun was pointed at him. At least his cover was intact, and he had the rest of the day off to, hopefully, stop this frustrating cycle.

A nap would, perhaps, allow him to relax more. He didn’t bother to get dressed before curling up in bed. The softness enveloped him, and it wasn’t long before he fell asleep. But it wasn’t restful. The same shameful feelings came to him in his dreams, but they were different. These were he subconscious desire surfacing; the desire to be shamed and humiliated like that again. To be forced to piss himself again, unable to hold it, making a mess like a child.

He started grinding his hips on his mattress in his sleep. Connolly awoke with a start, cock hard against his belly, trapped between him and the mattress. He groaned, half in pleasure but half in exasperation. He knew he had always had some darker fantasies, being tied up, blindfolded, controlled by some beautiful German specimen that would put him, and keep him, in his place. But those fantasies had never involved this kind of shame and humiliation, and certainly never him pissing himself.

But his cock demanded attention. He moved his hips slowly, hesitantly, trying to will up images from his other fantasies instead, but the fantasy continued. Him, in a dark room, perhaps blindfolded. He shut his eyes to enhance it. A full bladder, pounding to be released, but he wanted to desperately hold on. His cock twitched in excitement, leaking from arousal. He almost wished it was piss, and that caused him o moan, biting the pillow to hold back. His hips snapped faster, grinding harder on the bed. He didn’t care how messy they got as he smeared precome all over them. He panted, imagining dribbles of piss instead. A nice wet spot at the front of his uniform, making the black fabric glisten.

He was lost in his fantasy, eager to piss, desperate to come, wanting both at the same time. He wasn’t even sure if that was possible, but he filed it away as something to try later. But for now, he moved faster, tucking a pillow under his hips for more friction. He didn’t bother biting back his moans now, loud and animalistic as he started to feel himself reach that peak. With the throaty growl, he spilled over his sheets, panting and collapsing. He didn’t care that he landed in the wet spot, rather enjoying the warmth, still imagining it was piss as his cock twitched, spilling the final spurts.

He didn’t want to admit that this would warrant further investigations, but after he wiped himself off on the already soiled sheets, he quickly gulped down multiple glasses of water, and sat back in bed. Now, he said to himself, we wait.


	2. Twosome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connolly plays a dangerous game of holding at work, and Smith finds out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, uhhhhhh I finished all my homework for this week so I wrote this. I've left it open for maybe a third chapter, depending on if people like this one.

It didn’t take long for Connolly’s proclivity for pissing himself to evolve. It started as something he did at home to relieve stress and tension. Sometimes he’d piss his clothes, only to stroke himself through the wet fabric until he made another mess in them. Sometimes he’d lay naked in bed, on his back, palming his hard cock to hold the flow back from inside of him, little spurts of piss leaking over his abdomen.

But it was losing some of its fun. He knew he could piss anywhere in his own home. He lived alone, he knew how to clean it up, and there wasn’t the same thrill as there had been back down in that dungeon. 

People watched him down there. That was what made the shame rise in his face, and arousal in his belly. He didn’t care that Smith was a man, what mattered in this scenario was that Smith was his CO, and that was what made it so hot. 

Connolly started with doing some holds at work. He never got to the point of losing control. He didn’t actually want to do that. But he wanted to feel that sensation, especially around Smith.

It worked, for the most part. He’d rush home after his day was through and flood his uniform pants, while imagining Smith pacing around him, in disgust. The sharp click of his boots against the floor. Connolly didn’t even have to touch himself in order to come. He could hear Smith’s revulsion so clearly, taunting Connolly like the pathetic little boy he was. Couldn’t even hold himself. Children were better behaved than he was. Dogs were better trained. 

It was good, it kept Connolly going, and the small holds at work weren’t conspicuous. No one could tell, except for him. Until he miscalculated.

It was hectic at the Headquarters, with new reports from Joe Blake and other agents around the Reich and Japanese states. Connolly rushed around, not even planning on intentionally holding. The hours ticked on, he had more coffee than he usually would, and now, around three, Obergruppenführer Smith called him into his office to discuss some new intelligence. 

He swallowed hard, knowing the pressure in his bladder was growing by the minute. He certainly didn’t want to ask Smith to wait while he relieved himself, but it would be a challenge.

Connolly couldn’t sit still. He shifted and bounced while keeping his legs tightly crossed in the chair across from Smith. He wasn’t usually one to fidget, but he wasn’t sure he could stay still with how full he felt. His breath felt shallow, and he could feel the beginnings of shame, anxiety, and arousal flowing through his veins.

“Captain Connolly, do you have something more important to be doing?”

He jolted, afraid for a moment he had leaked, but he remained dry. “Sir?”

“You can’t sit still. You’re worse than my children. Something is on your mind.”

“No, no Sir, I’m fine.”

Smith just hummed, not believing Connolly at all, who had now begun to sweat. This was his fantasy, sure, but he certainly didn’t want to include Smith in this…he could be reported for this. 

“Tea, Captain?” Smith asked, innocently enough. Connolly couldn’t refuse. He knew the liquid would make things worse for him, but what could he do? Shaking, he took the cup, and sipped. It felt as though it went straight to his bladder, intensifying the need to piss.

Smith continued to shuffle reports and papers, and Connolly tried to discretely slip his hand between his legs, to squeeze his cock and hopefully relief some of the pressure. He would have to go soon. 

But Smith had other plans. With a smirk on his lips, he instructed Connolly to stand. A trickle leaked into his underwear, and he managed to just barely hold back to impending flood. He was impressed with himself when he managed to walk down to the dungeons. The same one where he had pissed himself the first time. The memory filled him with more arousal, cock now half hard and the urge to piss slightly subsided. 

“Sir, what are we doing here?”

“Don’t think I don’t know what you need. I’m not an idiot, Captain.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Really? I can see you squeezing your legs together, bending just slightly. And you recognize this room, don’t you?”

“Yes, yes Sir…” Connolly felt the colour rise in his face, burning pink with the shame, and even more desire. He could hear the disgust in Smith’s voice. Would he execute him for being a deviant? 

But Smith’s next move caught him by surprise. In one fluid motion, Smith had one hand around his throat, just lightly, and another, much harder grip, around his cock. “Still dry, for now,” he commented, impossibly close to Connolly. He could see the flecks of olive green in the Obergruppenführer’s eyes, the slight hints of pleasure he was deriving from this too. Connolly leaned in to kiss him, but Smith tossed him back, hitting the wall and falling to the floor with a slight thump.

Another spurt leaked out, and this time Connolly didn’t bother to hide it, thrusting his hand between his legs and rocking against it. “Sir, please.”

“Oh, you think begging will change my mind?” Smith chuckled. “You can try.”

“Please!”

“Please what?”

“Please, I-“ Connolly trailed off, and in barely a whisper he said, “I need to piss.”

Smith didn’t say anything, though he stepped closer. He kicked one of Connolly’s knees, to spread his legs. Connolly gripped his cock tighter, in a vice. He was so hard, but he needed to piss so badly, he wasn’t sure what to do. He just stared up at Smith, panting and wriggling. He was going to lose it soon, no matter what happened. 

“Let go, Connolly. Stop grabbing yourself like a child.”

“But Sir!”

“Do it.”

Reluctantly, he let go, and the urge became more intense. But his hand was replaced by something else. Smith was stepping on his cock, polished boot pressing down. Connolly couldn’t help but moan, and he pressed his hips up to meet the boot. 

“Filthy boy. What do you need more, hmm? To piss or come?”

“I…I don’t know.”

“Go on, dirty thing,” Smith sneered, though he also adjusted his cock, enjoying watching Connolly squirm. He pressed down harder, and Connolly yelped in pleasure, grinding himself against Smith. 

He wasn’t sure what would happen first. Dribbles of piss leaked from his cock, but he could feel his orgasm coming at him like a train. This was better than any fantasy he could think of, hearing himself moaning, seeing Smith rubbing himself over his pants, and the pressure. That sweet pressure, body fighting if it should piss or come.

He came first, his orgasm sneaking up on him. But before his aftershocks even settled, he flooded his pants, soaking himself and the floor, moaning and writhing from the intense sensation. It was like another orgasm.

When his bladder was finally empty, he slumped against the wall panting.

“Connolly, you have five minutes to get yourself cleaned up, then I expect you in my office, on your knees.” Smith said with one final adjustment to his cock. 

All he could do was nod weakly, and hope his legs didn’t give out from under him when he stood up.


End file.
